Harvest Moon
by Fireworksafterdawn
Summary: Hazel has never meant to touch that scythe, and she never was supposed to become to infatuated by it. Of course, it started when her family moved to the countryside with farms and a school with horrible bullies and scalding words, it wasn't really supposed to happen. Until she loses it altogether, and with that scythe, decides to end it, but not for her. For her old life. (My CP OC
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This was not, in any way, based off of the video game, 'Harvest Moon'. At first, I didn't even know there was a game with the same name as my Creepypasta OC, I honestly didn't. Then I looked up the name, to make sure I was the first to come up with the name for a creepypasta character of Harvest Moon. Well, I found out there was a game. I mentally face-hoofed myself and since I already finished up the first chapter, I'm like, what the heck? Why not keep going. That's my story. :P**

Chapter 1

She always admired that scythe leaning on the greenhouse wall.

She wondered what she could do with it. She could cut crops. Or maybe herself or others, she wasn't sure which one she should do.

She dreamily thought about shoving that scythe down Christina's throat, and to watch that horrible girl bleed out her life.

_Bad idea._ A voice echoed in her head. _Ignore it. Just remember that time Mom and Dad used it to cut down crops in the fields. That's what it's for. It's not a toy, Hazel. It's a tool._

Hazel bolted up on the couch when her favorite show on TV came on; Adventure Time. It calmed her nerves when she thought about Christina. Almost like someone was putting an ice bag on her forhead.

She giggled when Jake the yellow dog in the show said okay to everything the demon said.

"Now I can torture you for stealing my blood, Joshua."

"What? No, I'm not Joshua. Joshua's my dad. Look Dude, don't make me get all emotional about it."

"Anyway, just sit in that pit and suffer."

"Okay."

"No, you're supposed to disagree with everything I say."

A pause. "Okay."

The demon sighed and walked away saying, "you're causing tension pain in my back and neck. I'm going to lie down for a bit and meditate. Now you stay there and suffer."

Jake blinked. Then sat on a rock. "Okay."

Hazel laughed out loud. She loved Adventure Time. She smiled when Shelby the worm gave the preist's approval of Finn's grape sword. Then Finn licked it and said. "Mm. Grapey."

When the show ended, Hazel stretched and turned off the TV. Her parents weren't home, and it was a Saturday weekend. She could do anything she want.

Heck, she could mess with the Scythe even.

She grinned and pushed the thought away. But the thought wriggled back into her mind, that sweet delicious thought of even _holding _that weapon.

_Tool._ She corrected herself.

_Whatever._

She couldn't resist. She slowly walked outside of the back door and walked calmly to the greenhouse. She felt the glint of the tool in the corner of her eye before she even saw it. Hazel forcefully dragged herself towards the greenhouse. She almost went inside to pull weeds, but she glanced back at the scythe, that smooth, long, deadly, scythe.

She skipped back over to it. She stared at it for a while. Then she touched the thin, sharp, smooth edge of the blade. It was quick, but the pain came after a moment later.

Instinctively, she reached up and jammed her index finger in her mouth.

The salty blood flowed through her mouth. She took out her finger and saw that it was only a minor cut.

"So stupid..." She muttered. She thought it was so stupid of her to actually put her finger _on the blade_ like a little moron. She rewinded the event in her head.

'Oooohhhh... shiny weapon! Let's go touch it and see if I start bleeding!'

Yup. That sounded like her.

Gingerly, she wrapped her hand around the scythe's wooden pole. It felt a little heavy and uneven on one end. She picked it up, and held it far above her head. She stared it as it sillouetted against the sun. She turned it a little. Then lowered it again.

She remembered when they first moved, her parents said to never, ever, play with the scythe. Hazel promised. But it's a promise she has broken.

Then again, she's not _quite_ playing with it. More like examining it, taking a great interest to. But not playing.

She wouldn't ever break her promises.

Then she gently set down the tool against the greenhouse once more. She stared at it longingly, not really sure why she's wanting it so badly. Then she shrugged and went back inside the house to watch more Adventure Time.

* * *

"Look at Farm Girl!" Cackled Christina as she threw a crumpled piece of paper at her head. "Look at how stupid she is! Hey Farm Girl, that's paper. Oh wait, you can't read or write."

Hazel stayed quiet. She attempted to focus on her english work. The teacher will notice Christina and her clique and life-ruiners eventually.

"Oh, what's she writing?" Christina asked. She snatched the paper from Hazel's desk. Hazel gasped and reached back out for it. Christina grinned and flipped her long, silky, curly black hair. Her glacial blue eyes bore into Hazel's.

"Let me read it." Christina snickered.

Hazel held her breath.

She cleared her throat and read Hazel's poem out loud in a stupid tone of voice, "Hi! I'm Farme- I mean, Haazzeelllllll..." she exhaggerated the 'el' in Hazel's name, "and this is my crappy poem! It's called..." Christina squinted her eyes at the title. Then laughed. "It's about a farming tool that I have fallen in love with."

Hazel blushed. She noticed everyone in the room's eyes were on her. The teacher was gone. So that explains a lot.

"So," Christina blurted out, "it's a scythe. Now I'm g-going t-to r-r-r-reeeaaaaddd it."

People listened eagerly.

"From the bottom of mah heart, to the tip of yar blade, sharp as an eye, you can't be ah charade, Ya cut the grass, yah sliced my hand, how can ah forgive thee, when yah shattered mah creed?"

"Aw, she loves the farming tool." Giggled one of Christina's friend, a short girl with short, blonde hair.

"Why don't you marry it?" Asked a girl with a heart-shaped face. Her pale bronze hair was gleaming, and her doey brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

Christina laughed. "You will never be a normal kid, Farmer. You will die alone, with only a scythe to love."

Hazel still didn't say anything.

"Even if you listen to it, " she laughed, "it sounds terrible! 'thee' and 'creed' don't even rhyme! I can't believe I have to sit next to such a moron!"

The laughs echoed in her ears. It hurt her heart worse than the scythe did. Mondays are terrible. But when she poured her heart and soul all sunday afternoon into making that poem? To get the words to sound just right?

It's just cruel to laugh at her like that.

She stood up abrputly. She grabbed her notebook and binder, and stormed out of her seat to sit in the back of the classroom by herself. She didn't say a word.

"Oh, look at the wittle puppy! She was so _hurt_. We better say sorry."

Hazel didn't hear any apoligies. She continued to hear them giggle and snicker at her.


	2. Chapter 2

There was a new episode of Adventure Time on today.

But Hazel didn't want to watch.

She was tenderly rubbing the scar on her thumb now weeping blood. She was cutting up a block of cheese for tonight's dinner and in the process, cut her thumb when her mom suddenly started yelling at her dad.

Hazel was used to this at this point in her life.

Her parents oftentimes were too busy to care for Hazel. They did provide her necessities, such as a warm bedroom and uncooked food. They hardly spoke to her, and when they did, it was a polite command of, 'Hazel, can you please clean up the table?' or, 'Hazel, could you possibly set up a mouse trap in the corner over there?'

But they never said in sugar-coated words, 'I love you, Hazel.'

She was upset now. When she was little, she didn't know her parents were supposed to tell their children they loved and cared for them. She thought it was normal for her parents to not speak to her, such as a snake leaving her clutch of eggs after laying them.

But as time passed, she watched kids in her classroom need to call their parents if they didn't sign their conference form. At the end of each call, the child would flinch and mutter through the phone quietly and quickly, 'I love you too,' then hang up.

Hazel contemplated on those words for a while. Then she realized, these kids took their parents' love for granted. She however, never heard those words before in her life. She was too embarrassed to ask though.

She found out that her parents didn't entirely _love_ her, and if they did in that subtle way of theirs, they're not showing it well enough.

And as Hazel sucked on her bleeding thumb, she thought, _Am I an accident?_

* * *

"If you need help," Hazel's mother said quietly while putting on a hat, "just call the police station. Where we're going, phones are not permitted."

"The theaters?" Hazel guessed.

"I suppose so."

Then the two people shut the door, leaving Hazel all alone in the house. She remembered with a groan that she didn't record that new Adventure Time episode. She sighed and decided to lie on the couch and watch more Cartoon Network. Random things came on TV, MAD, Regular Show, reruns of Adventure Time, and she was so bored, she even watched the weirdest show on the entire channel, Uncle Grandpa.

She only watched a little bit of the bizarre new show as the old man who repeatedly said, 'good morning,' rode a giant realistic flying tiger, she honestly didn't seem to care though. When the strange man's stomach somehow high-fived a random obese kid's stomach. She stared ahead blankly with no expression.

Her mind wandered back to her parents. Maybe if she got their attention, they'd care about her a little bit more. Heck, even if she got in trouble it'd be better than sitting there watching Uncle Grandpa.

She glanced sideways back outside the window to the scythe on the greenhouse. It has moved a little bit from usage last night by her parents.

She got up and turned off the TV, ending the strangeness. She stretched her arms, then got up and walked outside to the scythe. She'll get in trouble to get their attention, she'll move the scythe, and make it obvious. She could cut herself a little, as a slight test whether her mom would care or not, and see if she'd get in trouble.

Pushing open the door, she darted to the weap- tool, not a weapon, a tool.

Grasping the smooth wood in her hand, she shut her eyes tightly and sliced her left palm open and blood immediately started to flow out of it. She held back a screech of pain, and she dropped the now blood-stained scythe on the ground.

_Idiot._

She mentally cursed herself once more for being so stupid touching the scythe. A second time she cut herself, a second time she sliced her hand on the scythe for being ignorant and blind to the truths lying in front of her.

_It was worth a shot_, she admitted shrugging. She ran into the house, not closing the door. She immediately began to scramble in the bathroom cabinets for bandages. Nothing.

"Damn," she growled, "I can't believe that I actually did that. A second time."

She set her hand on the sink rim, and a bloody handprint came off. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She was hurt, and there was a lot of blood, she needed a doctor. She needed stiches now.

She was hurt badly. And she…

A hand touched her shoulder.

Hazel froze up, her right hand covering her left, broken, palm.

"Child," a soft voice said.

"D-Dad?" Hazel gasped, thinking and hoping against hope it was her Dad's voice, a voice she never really recognized.

"Shush, Child." The voice said again with a static tone, "you are hurt."

Hazel didn't dare look behind her. She stayed paralyzed in fear, the hand lifted off of her shoulder. She still didn't release the breath she was holding. And slamming her right fist into her left hand didn't stop the bleeding. She was going to lose too much blood, and she could pass out. Maybe die, she wasn't really sure. Either way, infection could set in, and that would kill her.

"Hold out your left hand over your shoulder, Child." The voice said again.

Hazel did as the voice told her. Was she going insane?

She waited, and then a soft wrapping was covering her hand. She wanted to know who her mysterious savior was. Maybe it was the faceless man?

The hand still hurt, and she needed stitches, but she was sure she could be fine until her parents got home. She could request them to please take her to the doctor's maybe, or at least stitch it up themselves.

"T-thank you..." after a moment, Hazel quickly added, "s-sir."

"Don't look behind you." The voice whispered, "For if you do, you would regret accepting my help."

"N-no, you helped me when I cut my hand. I need to know your name." A pause. "I-if that's okay with you of course, sir."

He didn't respond for a long time.

Hazel took a deep breath, then finally asked, "what are you doing here in my home, sir?"

He responded quickly, with static edging his voice, "I can go wherever I want, whenever I want, Child. I am hardly human myself. Would you question a bird in _your_ birdfeeder? Or ask why those humans are in the park?"

_Hardly human?_

"N-no sir, of course not." Hazel responded skittishly, "but you seem like a gentleman, helping me."

He chuckled. Hazel was tempted to turn around but she kept his words close to her heart. Don't look back. He then said, "Oh, I suppose I could be a gentleman if you wish so, Child. I could also be a murderer, a ghost, an alien." Then he added quietly, "a monster."

"Sir, why would someone call you a monster?"

"For I am one, dear Child." He admitted in a sheepish voice, "If you want to see why I am called that, you will want to run away, and scream. Like the rest of the humans." A thick silence flooded the air. She heard quiet footsteps walking away from her. "Dear, Hazel, do not question my logic. You are but a child. Yet I will watch you."

Hazel nodded, wondering how he knew her name. Then that strange tension in the air disappeared. Can she look back now?

No voice. She was pretty sure he was gone. She turned around, and stared at the empty bathroom in front of her.

Who was that man?

* * *

"I cut myself with the scythe, and, e-even though you said not to touch the scythe, I-I grabbed it anyway, and played a little bit around the woods."

Hazel's mom nodded absentmindedly as she prepared food, her headband was folding all her hair to the back of her head, and her apron was covered in egg specks.

"Should I be in trouble?" Hazel asked suddenly.

Her mom turned to look at her. There was a moment. Then she turned back to the boiling pot and said, "You admitted you touched that tool when you shouldn't have, and you honestly said that you played in the woods a little,"

_Actually, that was a lie. About the woods._

She went on, "so, since you were honest, you deserve no punishment. You admitted your faults in today, and I trust you won't do so again."

Hazel blinked. No more attention? She wasn't even vaguely aware that her daughter has used bandages they don't have.

"W-what about the bandages?" She asked.

"What about them?"

Hazel stared dumbfounded. "We don't even have any bandages, a-and I have some, here on my hand! No questions or-"

"Hazel, I am getting a little fed up." Her mother whispered, "I-I need my antidepressants, okay? I'm not going to question your logic."

_The man told me not to question him either._

"S-so," her mom pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes. "Just g-go. Go for a bit, Hazel. I'll get this all sorted out."

"Get what sorted out?"

"Hazel!"

She snapped to attention.

Her mother's eyes were blazing all of a sudden, and her fingernails were gripping the wooden spoon tightly, "I said I'm fed up! Go to your room and do something!"

Hazel stared. Nodded blankly. Then went into her room.

The plan didn't work. She sat on her bed.

She sliced open her hand and for what? A strange man barging into her home and her mom honestly not caring that her daughter used bandages they don't have.

Hazel clutched a pillow and held it close to her body. She stared outside. She shut her eyes, and let the tears spill out and get her pillow soaked in a matter of minutes.

"I'm… I'm so cold…"


End file.
